


The 8 Day King

by Ophelia_of_the_Woods



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, because if you do, so do any of y'all know british history, you know whats coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_of_the_Woods/pseuds/Ophelia_of_the_Woods
Summary: George tried to avoid the war, but accepts the crown when it comes to an endor: I remembered the story of Lady Jane Grey was and decided to combine it with minecract
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	The 8 Day King

When Wilbur called for a Revolution on the SMP, George did not feel the need for concern.

And why should he; the dealings of a small faction held little impact on his own life. Sure, his friends were quick to drag him into battle, but George knew his friends well. He knew that while Dream and Sapnap had a tendency to jump headfirst into conflicts without thinking ahead, they only wanted what was best for themselves and their home. 

He joined the war on their behalf, and they won. 

And when it was over, he returned to the home they shared and the life he'd known, with the intent of leaving all the trials and tribulations of the conflict far behind him. 

<>

In hindsight, George supposed he could have been a better vice-president. 

But you know what they say about hindsight. It's 20/20, and George never did have the best vision, what with being colorblind and all. 

For all his humor and flirtation, George knew that Quackity was an extremely intelligent person. One who did not take risks such as running for president in a nation he holds no loyalty lightly. So when the man came to George asking him to help him in a race against a tyrant attempting to collect his power, he agreed. 

While he'd never done anything to indicate otherwise, Wilbur's rigging of the L'Manburg presidential election began to set off the warning bells in his head. Who would believe that the benevolent general who'd led his men in a revolt against an unjust oppressor would behave in the same manner as those he fought against. 

So George helped Quackity. It was the right thing to do.

<>

Maybe it wasn't.

The election was supposed to be him and Quackit'y against Wilbur and Tommy. But then Schlatt, Niachu and Fundy threw their hats into the ring, and everything went to hell. 

In the end, George was victorious, but in name only. The real winner was Schlatt, who conned his way into Quackity's heart before stabbing everyone else in the back. 

George supposed he should have listened to the disgraced general when he warned every citizen of L'Manburg that the goat hybrid was a dictator in the making. Then again, he'd never paid the Brit much mind. 

Wilbur and Tommy's exile came as a massive shock to everyone. In all his wildest dreams, George could never have expected the outcome of the election. As he looked out from the stage over the now destroyed L'Manburg, he felt his stomach knaw with regret. 

This was his home now. Manburg victorious. 

This was not the victory he had been promised. This was the continuation of tyranny.

And he would not be a part of it. 

<>

Battle cannons went off in the distance.

George looked up from his work on the hobbit hole to see smoke billowing in the distance, bright beams of red white and blue shooting through the air. 

He elected to ignore it. It wasn't his fight any longer. 

<>

To be a king. 

The thought was almost laughable to George. But here he stood, beside his lifelong friend, with the offer of royalty handed to him. 

Eret had betrayed us, Dream had said. He could no longer be trusted to rule this nation. I need someone like you. 

To be king, not of his own small patch of land, but of all of the SMP, it was an honor only the most worthy could bear. An honor, George thought, a man like him did not deserve. 

Why should he, a man who abstained from war, who was blamed and disregarded by everyone, with no legitimacy to his name, become the head of an empire? The thought was laughable at best, stomach sickening at worst

<>

_ You'd make an excellent King. _

_ I'd make a terrible king. You're just saying that because you like me.  _

_ And what if I do?  _

_ Well that proves it then. This is nepotism. _

_ This is also me caring about you George. I think you could do it. You've got all the charm and battle experience any good ruler would need. _

_ I don't think L'Manburg would let their enemy be seated on the throne without objections. Dream, we just finished the war, I don't want another. _

_ If L'Manburg wants war, I promise you, you will be victorious. You will bring about harmony. If not for yourself, would you do it for me? _

_ … _

_ I'd consider it.  _

_ <> _

The coronation day was perhaps the last normal day of George's life. 

He'd been awoken at dawn and dressed in fine blue and silver garments, a long flowing cape draped over his shoulders. When the bells chimed, he was escorted to the holy lands built by his friends and made to kneel before Dream, who placed a golden crown upon his head and proclaimed him king. 

The night that followed was fleeting, but filled with joy. Surrounded by his subjects, George danced the night away, laughing and crying and singing all the songs he hadn't sung since before the war. He clung tightly onto Dream, who remained by his side all evening, whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear all the while. And for one perfect moment, everything was right in the world. 

There was no war. No more traitors, no more battles. Only a twinkling night sky and the feeling of his friends arms around him 

He was King George the First, Ruler of the SMP. 

<>

_ You should be out there, celebrating. _

_ How can I celebrate knowing my existence endangers them all? _

_ You shouldn't think like that. _

_ It's all I can think about, Dream.  _

_ Hey, you needn't worry about that, I'll protect you, no matter what.  _

_ Is that a promise? _

<>

8 days.

He had 8 days as king before the remains of L'Manburg rose up in rebellion once again.

George considered himself lucky that he'd even gotten one

  
  
  


<>

The declaration of war shouldn't have come as a shock to him, but reading the note still felt like a punch to the gut. 

_ Renounce your claim to the throne or ready your troops for war.  _

George was shell shocked. Distantly, he could hear Dream and Sapnap arguing over a strategy, but he blocked their voices out.  This was not supposed to happen. The war was over, and George had escaped it without a drop of blood upon his hands. 

It was as if the weight of the world upon his shoulders, and his knees were close to buckling.

<>

_ You said it was over Dream! You said I'd never have to see those bloody battlefields again! _

_ There was no way we would've known this would happen like this! _

_ Bullshit. You knew, I knew, everybody in this kingdom knew. Now you have made this my problem. _

_ I only wanted what was best for you! _

_ No, you wanted me to sit on that golden throne and look pretty! Admit it! _

<>

The battlefield was just as he remembered it. 

Across the large expanse of land, large craters and hunks of metal dotted the landscape. George looked around the muddy field, wondering how much blood had been spilled while he sat at home, safe from the horrors of war.  Letting out a sigh, he pulled himself off of his horse and began marching up the hill towards the figures before him. 

Technoblade and Philza. 

Did he expect anyone else?   
  


<>

_ I'm scared Dream. _

_ I know. _

_ I don't want to die. _

<>

The battle was over before it even began.

Techno said something, his eyes drifting back to the army behind him, and George could hear a loud hissing noise, before the earth underneath him exploded. The world around him began to hum, and George could do little more than groan as hands latched onto him and dragged him across the field. He felt himself being thrown onto the cold floor of a caged cart and heard the door slam behind him. 

The next hours were a blur as George drifted in and out of consciousness.

He missed Dream. 

<>   
  


He was cold.

The walls were icy to the touch, spanning on for miles upwards. 

Hazily, George traced his fingers against the bricks. Small droplets of water dripped onto the floor, the only indication beside the small beam of moonlight shining through the bars of the passage of time. Wrapping the threadbare blanket across his body, George thought of his friends. Of Dream.

The heat that spread across his cheeks was the only warmth he felt that night. 

<>

_ I promise. _

<>

George was awoken by the sound of paper crinkling. 

Looking over his shoulder, he spotted the guard stationed outside his cell sliding a piece of paper under his door. With a sigh, he stretched forward and grabbed it, his eyes flickering across it. 

Beheading. 

That was the manner in which his execution would occur.

George didn't know whether to cry from terror or relief. 

<>

_ You're right. _

_ I knew it. _

<>

When the guards opened the door to his cell, George stood up willingly.

If these were to be his final moments, he would have them be on his own terms. He walked out the doors, his head held tall.

He would not show them weakness. 

<>

His resolve faltered as he passed Dream. 

Dream, with his messy blond hair marred with blood. Dream, with his strong arms tied behind his back. Dream, with his emerald eyes shining with tears. 

George felt his heart rate increase. He tug on the chains encasing his arms and feet, trying to reach out to his friend, to his love. Dream called out his name in a broken voice, and George could feel his whole body scream out with the desire to hold him, to feel his arms around his back and rest his head on his shoulder.

To be held by the person he loved.

The guards grabbed him and shoved him, sending him falling to the ground. George felt his breathing become more erratic as he was forced to his feet. He looked upwards at the podium, where two familiar figures stood. 

<>

Any last words?

George considered what he would say as he was forced to kneel by Technoblade. What should he say?   
  


A bold proclamation that would inspire those loyal to him to rise up and take back the nation? A sweet and gentle poem that would make those around him weep? A prayer to whatever god above in the hopes of redemption?

All these thoughts raced through his head as he stared into the blank, faceless audience before him. Not even a week ago, these had been his subjects, his allies. His eyes flickered over to Dream, whose eyes met his. His love. 

How would he say goodbye?

<>

_ My Love, I promise you, I'll be by your side no matter what _

<>

The axe fell.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, dreamnotfound angst go brrr  
> On another note, please enjoy this story that I decided to write instead of doing by hw


End file.
